


The Ways It Might've Happened

by drawingblinds (breathtaken)



Category: Swingtown
Genre: F/M, Yuletide 2008
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-25
Updated: 2008-12-25
Packaged: 2017-12-24 03:25:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/934742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breathtaken/pseuds/drawingblinds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'She shrugs, not ruefully but as if she honestly doesn't care. "You've only got one life, Bruce, you've gotta make connections where you find them."'</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ways It Might've Happened

**Author's Note:**

  * For [earlwyn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/earlwyn/gifts).



> Written for Yuletide 2008.

**1\. definition of 'good'**

Bruce just walks into the room as if he's been there the whole time, because he's never been good at coming or going and this way, maybe they can disregard the hour long journey he's just taken. Melinda's looking straight at him, holding a glass with a dribble of single malt in it. "I hope there's some of that for me."

"Sure." She waves her hand in the direction of the sideboard and he pours himself a slug, noting that Susan would have served him. Hating himself a little bit for it, but he supposes comparisons are inevitable.

"So. You came." The raised eyebrow, the smile of a woman who knows it's in the bag, and he almost falters, how sexy it is. She's confident on the floor, daring even, but still new and still learning, still delighted, almost surprised when things go her way (which they almost always do). Off the floor, it's quickly becoming apparent to him that this confidence stretches further, and here in her apartment, it's clear that she knows exactly what she's about - shocking him with the sense of it just like Trina did - and by God he wants that.

"I was thinking how much easier it would have been to let you leave if I'd just thought you had a nice ass, or something." 

He says it like he's joking, but means it; and then cringes a second later as he realises how he sounded, like he doesn't take her seriously, but Melinda just smiles. "I said you were a good guy, didn't I?"

"Interesting definition of 'good' you got there," he says wryly, suddenly serious. She gives him a questioning look, as if she doesn't quite follow. "If I'm not cheating on my wife right now, I will be soon."

She shrugs, not ruefully but as if she honestly doesn't care. "You've only got one life, Bruce, you've gotta make connections where you find them." They both know that's not even the half of it, but the low light and the alcohol and the blonde hair knotted at the base of her neck make a much more immediate case.

"Is that what we're doing then, making a connection?"

"Better be."

The first touch is his fingers skimming the back of her neck as he loosens her hair from its clasp.

* * *

**2\. the things he's learned**

What Bruce finds sexiest about Melinda is that she knows who she is. Women as a whole baffle him a little, but he has a feeling that this kind of self-assurance is rare in someone still in her twenties. When he first met Susan they were kids, who had to grow up pretty quickly together; even now they're nearly forty she's still discovering who she is and what she wants, what more she can have than circumstance gave her. Partly his fault, he supposes, but he didn't know any better either; mostly just the way things were, and she got screwed, both figuratively and not. It's ironic that his new understanding of Susan comes from knowing Melinda, from the first time she'd looked at him over a table of two whiskies and asked if Susan had ever had a job, and maybe it was progress for him, to feel ashamed for never considering that she might have wanted one.

Melinda's arrived fully formed: she has a purpose and a plan, and Bruce has never realised just how sexy that can be.

He'd always thought she was hot, sure, but it first kicked off when after three weeks on the job, he realised that she fits really easily into the world of men - or what Bruce had always thought of as the world of men, though he supposes it's not really if it's hers too (and he can see it is). She's funny and sharp; she can work the market; she understands baseball, and the list goes on. All those years and he's never thought that a woman can be a best friend, can share his interests and understand his work, and still be someone he wants to take to bed at the end of it. Susan's only ever been a wife, and Bruce wants to be challenged. 

Melinda challenges him. She makes him think, makes him re-evaluate.

One of the things he's learned from her is just how dangerous that can be.

* * *

**3\. nineteen fifties suburban values**

"Your wife came to see me today."

The whisky splashes on his hand as he turns to look at Melinda, and he quickly pulls up the neck of the bottle, without breaking the eye contact. "What the hell for?"

"To inflict her nineteen fifties suburban values on me, apparently." Melinda rolls her eyes dramatically, as if to makes sure her point carries across from sofa to sideboard, and Bruce thinks it's probably not the physical distance that's the problem here.

"I...what?"

Melinda smiles to herself, as if it should have been obvious to her that a guy like him wouldn't follow, and he's annoyed by that, although maybe he's really annoyed at himself because he didn't follow it, did he? "She seems to think that if you fuck me, it's my fault."

Maybe it's prudish of him to be shocked by the expletive, but he is a little. He's aware his experience of women is limited to Susan and her friends, but he's only ever heard even Trina swear within the bedroom. He's never thought that well-brought-up women used swear words, and it's occurring to him that the amount of time he spends thinking 'I never thought...' is a bit embarrassing, or would be if she knew.

" _Your_ fault?" 

"Yes." Melinda searches his face, and it's almost as though she's read his mind, has seen that he's wondering where the hell that came from. "Susan appears to have this frankly outdated idea that it's all the woman's fault. Which is not only insulting to me, but insulting to you. Because it implies that men are animals who only think with their dicks and can't be held responsible for their own actions, and it's up to women to keep them in check."

"It's really not up to you," he manages, and he feels bad but he's almost a little disgusted that Susan has that low an opinion of him, and then guilty because he's done nothing to disprove it, has he?

"Exactly. Your marriage is your business. I just go after what I want." 

There's something about the way Melinda says that, plain and just a little bit challenging, that makes him dart across the open space and kiss her, clasping her face in his hands and taking her in as if he's breathing anew, because in Susan's mind, he's already sinned.

* * *

**4\. definition of 'good' (2)**

The first time she wraps her lips around the head of his cock, his groan is loud enough to wake the entire building.

"Mm?" Melinda replies coyly, and the vibrations up his length make him shudder and curl his fists into the bed sheets.

"Oh God, that's good." He breathes rather than speaks, and has to bite down a whimper when those lips are taken away.

"Is that a technical term?" Melinda raises an eyebrow up at him. He's never considered the idea that two people can have sex _and_ a conversation at the same time, and it's a weird kind of wonderful even when he'd probably rather her mouth was doing something else; still, at least her fingertips are still skimming the length of him, far too lightly in his opinion. He reckons he could easily get used to this.

"The textbook definition," he grins down at her as she returns lips and tongue to the task in hand, as it were.


End file.
